#and i won’t be the same person EVER. AGAIN.

[bpmiranda]

Possession |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: possessive bf!logan, jealous!logan, teacher!reader, 20+ f!reader, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, marking kink

“Stop, Logan, they’re going to see.” You whisper, pushing on his chest lightly as he’s biting on your neck in your empty classroom, though you know it won’t be empty for much longer.

Logan doesn’t stop, he bites harder on your collarbone, and your reflex is to smack his chest which surprises you, you can tell it surprises him even more. “You don’t want them to know you’re mine?” He asks with a teasing tone, holding you against the blackboard and gripping your hips tighter.

“It’s just not appropriate.” You say, caressing his cheek lightly, noticing the sting in his expression which he is trying to mask. “I’m sorry. We’ve gotta tone it down, honey.”

Your relationship with Logan only began about three months ago, around the same time Charles Xavier first recruited you for his staff of educators. Logan was forward with his flirting and his intentions and you all too willingly fell for his charming personality and sweet compliments. You never could resist a man that knew what he wanted and went after it. Once you reciprocated his feelings, Logan became insatiable. He wanted you all the time, wanted to be with you all the time, and while you tried to understand that he was just a passionate lover, it was hard to get him to be low key so you could fly under the radar.

“I can’t,” Logan sighs, his forehead presses against yours and he kisses you softly. “I just can’t, princess. I need you.” His lips reattach to your neck and you whine softly as his hard shaft presses into your lower belly. “Please, baby, let me just slide it in.” One of his hands begins to bunch up the skirt of your dress and you quickly grab onto his wrist.

“Logan, I’ve got a class in ten minutes.” You urge, pushing him away again. He lets out a deep sigh, but he nods. “Can you wait for me?”

Logan smiles and he caresses your cheek softly. “Of course I can.”

You’re not afraid to get hot and heavy with him like you often do in private, but it’s different outside of your bedroom. Logan’s got some type of affinity for kissing you where someone might see you, he wants the other men in the school to see him touching you, it’s not enough that you are in an established relationship, he has to make it more obvious than that. “Baby, come on, you can be louder than that.” He says as you’re sitting sideways on his lap in the common area, his hand between your thighs where he’s rubbing your clit through your thin pajama shorts.

“Let’s go upstairs.” You whisper, your hand grabbing onto his wrist as you tuck your face into his neck, muffling your soft moans there. “Please.”

“Just let them see us, who gives a damn?” Logan murmurs, kissing your forehead as he moves his fingers underneath your pajama shorts and you gasp as two of them plunge into you. “I want them to know how good I make you feel.”

Sometimes it’s harder to say no.

When Warren Worthington arrives at the school and he’s tall with curly blonde hair and deep blue eyes, Logan immediately feels that he needs to mark you, claim you in a way that tells the newcomer you’re taken. Even despite your constant reassurance between the sheets that Logan’s the best you’ve ever had, he needs more.

There’s nothing untoward about the way you show Warren around the school, you’re perfectly polite and professional, but the business man’s son has grown up around polite and professional women. You were no different to him, his flirting was all the same, and you were flattered, but you had Logan. “Isn’t he a little old for you?” Warren asked with a little smirk as the two of you came back to the starting place of their tour, the dorms. His dorm.

You can’t help your light laugh as you shake your head. “In his defense, he’s nearly two hundred years old.” You say as you lean against the wall and Warren props an arm on the doorframe of his bedroom, smiling down at you.

“Does he still do it for you?” He asked, flashing those blue eyes that no doubt worked on plenty of young secretaries and schoolgirls, but you weren’t one of them.

Before you could retort, Logan suddenly appeared at your side and he shoved the young man straight into his bedroom, knocking the door open from the force, and Warren grunted as he fell onto the floor. Logan’s eyes are flaming with anger as he stares down at the shocked young mutant. “You’re grounded, kid.” Logan snarled before slamming the bedroom door shut and taking you by the arm. You didn’t say anything, you could only look at him wide eyed with compliance as he led you into your shared bedroom. “See what happens when they don’t know who belongs to who?” He says angrily as he makes you sit on the bed, his chest still puffed out as he towers over you, but you’re not scared of him. He’d never hurt you.

“Nothing was going to happen, Logan!” You stand as you snap back immediately, offended by the implication that you would’ve fallen for the cheap, sweet talk when you’re committed to him.

Logan only sits you back on the end of the bed and he unbuckles his belt as he stares down you. It seems as if he’s calmed down, but you know better. “Lay back.” He instructs and you want to refuse, but you don’t really want to fight.

As you lay down, Logan crawls over you and he settles between your thighs. His lips immediately attach onto your neck and you grab firmly onto his biceps as he’s licking and kissing that spot that makes you so docile for him. His arms cage you in underneath him, his hard shaft presses into your core through the thin material of your calf length dress, you swear you’ve never seen him so tame and then you feel it. His teeth bite down hard on your skin and he sucks harshly making you whine and writhe and push on him as he marks you. “Logan!” You gasp and he clasps a hand onto your neck as he continues marking you further down your chest, content with just one mark being visible for the time being. The rest are a reminder for you, not that you needed one.

“I can’t fucking stand it. Seeing them look at you. You’re mine, baby. You’re my girl.” Your hands instinctively pull on his white t-shirt, your mind is dizzy from how forceful he is with you, single handedly ripping the buttons of your dress open so he can suck dark hickeys onto your chest. “You’re too damn pretty to walk around all by yourself.” You bite your lip, your head rolls back as you enjoy the way his mouth leaves open mouth kisses along your belly while he completely opens up your button down dress. His thumb suddenly pulls your lip down and he kisses you, humming against your mouth. “Let them hear you.” He orders and you shyly nod. Once your panties come off, he wastes no time delving into you, hungrily lapping at your center, his large hands keeping your thighs slightly pushed up against your belly. “You’re too good for me, you’re too good for anyone, but I couldn’t live without you.” You’re holding on tightly to the bedsheets, moaning his name, telling him how good it feels, whining when he sucks so softly on your clit and a quake vibrates through your body. “You’re close, princess. Let me make you feel good. You deserve it, you deserve everything.” Logan groans as two fingers slowly occupy space inside you and your brows arch in pleasure as you mewl in response. “That’s it, go on, let go for me.” He encourages, sloppily running his tongue over your sensitive bud while his fingers pump into you and his thumb lewdly rubs through your folds. “There we go, beautiful. Just like that.” It’s all too much and you can’t contain a high pitched whine as your orgasm trembles through you, your legs wanting so badly to close to alleviate the sensitivity, but Logan’s one hand is much stronger than you. “Don’t fight it, baby, I wanna see you fall apart for me.” He coos, kissing your clit softly.

“Logan!” You cry, your back arching as your juices leak out of you, onto his tongue, and he growls from the taste, from the fact that they can probably hear you call his name in ecstasy and he can’t contain himself any longer

His t-shirt comes off swiftly and he brings you up onto your shaky legs, pushing the ruined dress off your shoulders and pulling his cock out of his unbuttoned pants. “C’mere,” He murmurs, easily lifting you up by the waist so you wrap your legs and arms around him, holding tightly onto him as he sinks you down onto his hard shaft and you gasp. “Love how you take what I give you, you’re so good for me.” Every vein around his girth drags against your walls and you tremble against him, his hands hold you up by your ass where he squeezes and fucks you onto him making you cry softly, your face tucks into his neck and you whine his name over and over. “That’s right, princess, who’s making you feel this good?” He purrs into your ear as he walks over to the bedroom door and fucks you against it, making your eyes water.

“M-m-mm! Logan!” You try to be quiet about sobbing his name as he’s rutting deep into you, but you’re unable to contain how he makes you feel. So cared for and owned, like his possession. “Logan, please! I-baby-ah!” Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you suddenly cum again, arching into him as your head tilts back and leans against the door. “Logan!”

Logan grunts as he pins you there, kissing your neck while whispering, “You’re all mine, princess. No one else can have you like this, I’ll make damn sure of that.” His chest flexes from the tension of his oncoming release and you softly kiss his neck, humming contently against his skin which gets him there. “Just-uh-mine, my girl-fuck-all mine, that right, beautiful?” He asks between grunt as he’s pushing himself impossibly deep into you, unloading himself right against your cervix and you nod weakly, fucked out as his thick shaft glides easily in and out of you from the added lubricant of him cum.

The two of you are breathless as you gaze at each other, the post-orgasm lull was always a moment of tenderness you enjoyed with him. “Always been yours.” You whisper weakly as he stills inside you, his hands squeezing your ass and your waist reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You say against his shoulder as he carries you over to the bed.

His weight gently rests on top of you as he’s not quite ready to remove himself from your warm, tight core. Not ready to let his seed leak out of you and you caress his back softly as he rests his head on your shoulder and kisses your jaw lovingly. “Can’t even bear the thought.” He mumbles and your heart skips a beat. Logan hears the irregularity in your pulse and he smiles. “I love you.” He says for the time since you’ve gotten together and a warmth spreads through your chest.

“I love you.” You say, caressing his cheek softly to get him to look at you. His green eyes hold such a softness in them you can’t help but melt. “Only you.” You tell him and he nods, kissing you gently, smirking to himself as he looks over the marks on your body.

Logan knows you love him, he does, but this is a reassuring way of showing others you love him, that you’re only his, and only he could mark you.

It has become a little easier for me to combine similar requests into one shots and this combines jealous!logan, possessive!logan, and reader with a praise kink:)

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[heyaheiya]

Will you write something about single dad bakugo falling in love with his child’s daycare teacher and her or them feeling the same 🥺🥺 -🦕

Sorry this took so long 😭😭

— — — — — —

Katsuki didn’t plan on ever getting into a relationship again; just him and his darling daughter was enough for him. That was until your stupid face somehow wormed its way into his mind.

His girl, Bakugou Chiyo, had been going to daycare for a few months now, but he’d never met you officially.

As much as Mitsuki loved having the little one over most weekdays, she didn’t have all the time in the world to spend babysitting. Eijirou encouraged Katsuki to enroll Chiyo and had recommended the daycare he used for his kids. Despite Katsuki’s hesitation towards it, Eijirou wouldn’t stop pestering the man to give it a chance. Something about ‘socialisation’ or whatever. Still, Katsuki put up a good fight.

“Fuck no, you know how disgusting other people’s kids are?? I don’t want Chiyo catching rabies from those things.”

“It’s expensive, I’m not exactly rich right now you know!”

“How do I know those teachers are qualified?”

“I’m sure Chiyo’s gonna hate it so what’s the bother.”

Unfortunately, Chiyo loved it, waking up early and being pretty self sufficient for a 4 and a half year old. She even packed her bag herself before bed so it was ready the next morning. Yes it was filled with just stuffed animals, and what.

“Baby, do you seriously need all of your friends? Why not pick one?”

“But they’ll be lonely :(“

Katsuki had to write out a whole schedule of which plush goes to daycare on which day. This rotation made sure the toys all got an equal amount of days.

Chiyo had been getting chattier in the recent days. Perhaps shitty hair was right about the socialisation bit… However, at dinner that night, a new name kept coming up.

“-and I was really sad. But then, Smiley came over and made it better!”

“Who’s ’Smiley’, princess?”

“Silly daddy, you see her every day at pickup!”

That was helpful. One out of the army of children he has no time to notice.

“Tell me about Smiley. She nice to you?”

“Mhm! Today she secretly gave me a chocolate from the teacher desk :D”

Alarms went off in Katsuki’s head. Chiyo’s friends with a thief. Chiyo’s gonna turn into a criminal. Chiyo’s gonna get arrested in the future. Chiyo needs to stop being friends with this ‘Smiley’ kid!!

“What??”

“Yeah. She told me not to tell anyone or she’ll get in trouble… But you won’t tell, right daddy l?”

The next day and drop off, Katsuki stomped in, all geared up in his hero suit, with a massive scowl decorating his face. Usually Mitsuki and Masaru drop the sweetheart off in the mornings, and by the end of a long work day, Katsuki doesn’t have time to chat. So other parents and teachers had basically never had a proper conversation with the man. That sure was gonna change.

“Who is this ‘Smiley’ kid??”

The receptionist looked befuddled.

“Oh no.. what did she do?”

“Nunya goddamn business. Point me to ‘er”

A shaken older hand pointed towards a young and surprisingly pretty face across the room. Must be the kids mother.

Katsuki stomped his way over to the woman. Either she shrunk back in fear of the pro hero, or his anger made him grow a few inches.

“Oi! Who do you think you are? Letting your kids behave like that? I swear, don’t give me some shi- stupid excuse!”

“I’m so sorry! Has someone been picking on Chi-Chi?”

“Chi-Chi? Seriously nicknaming a kid that doesn’t belong to you? That’s so fuc- freaking creepy.”

Chiyo yanked at her father’s pant leg a bit.

“Don’t yell at Smiley like that >:(“

Huh. Smiley.. is the teacher. Oh. A normal person would instantly apologise, but Katsuki? Pro hero Dynamight?

“What kind of relationship do you have with my daughter??”

He made you look like a child predator in front of your entire classroom, their parents, and your boss +coworkers..To say he felt bad was an understatement, the look of your terrified and embarrassed face scarring his mind for days.

Then, Chiyo came home balling her eyes out.

“Miss Smiley wasn’t there! She left me!”

Fuck. He knew what he had to do.

+81 XXX XXX XXX: Meet me at the restaurant down the street in 10.

Y/N: What the freak

When he saw you walk in, his jaw dropped. Unfortunately, you were beautiful, like the girls on the covers of magazines. However, your cute and almost squishable face quickly turned to a glare, eyes shooting lasers through his face.

It’s silent for a long time.

“This is the part where you apologise for getting me fired.”

“Right, I’m really sorry.”

…

“Look, I love Chiyo so so much. She’s a good kid and I’m sure you can tell she’s grown an attachment to me. If it’s because you or her mother feels jealous-“

“I’m single, the mother is out of the picture.”

“Oh so you just felt like being a dick?”

“Mind your language, Sensei. Wouldn’t want any kids to develop a fowl tongue.”

“I’m the reason Chiyo doesn’t have some of your key vocabulary. Watch it, Dynamight.”

“Oh I’m so scared😒”

You instantly stood up and grabbed your purse. “If you’re just here to rub salt in the wound, I think we’re done.” Fuck. Katsuki yanked you back down into your seat, eyes begging.

“No, fuck- I can’t stop fucking this up. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Wanna add another f-bomb to that statement?”

“Fuck off.”

“There we go.”

Katsuki groaned to himself, wanting to kill himself right there and then.

“I came here to apologise and fix things, but I’m stupid and can’t fucking communicate!”

“There are other swear words y’know?”

“Take me seriously.”

Your face softened slightly. You seriously thought he might cry in the middle of some random ramen restaurant.

“How do I fix this??”

“Well..”

You didn’t ask for too much really. Shopping spree (clothes, jewellery, cosmetics, skincare, shoes, hair pins, the works), official apology to everyone who was in the room at the time, get job back, and a bunch of tiramisu.

After all that, you were nothing but smiles. Then it clicked. Always smiling. Miss Smiley. Damn, that was a lazy nickname.

“Chiyo was the one who came up with ‘Miss Smiley’.”

It’s the best goddamn nickname anyone has ever made.

“Is there anything else you wanna add to that long ass list of yers???”

“Perchance..”

“Well??”

“A second date?”

— — — — — — — — — — —

This is not my best, I’m sorry 😭😭 hope you enjoyed! And requests are still open. Please, I need inspiration 🙏🙏

[anna-the-undertaker]

Redemption

Part 2 of Failure

I wrote this while half asleep... i make no promises that this will be of good quality.

tags: @obeymelucigirlie @anfasith

The House of Lamentation was unnervingly quiet in the days following MC’s departure. Even Mammon’s usual complaints had faded, replaced by a tense silence as the brothers struggled to come to terms with what had happened. MC had left, gone without a word, leaving them to face the weight of their own failure.

Lucifer, as always, was the first to break the silence. "We need to go to Diavolo," he said sharply, standing before the others. His voice, though calm, carried the edge of frustration.

Mammon groaned, already exasperated. "Diavolo already told us no, Lucifer. What’s the point of goin' back to him?"

Lucifer’s gaze hardened. "The point is that the exchange program is in jeopardy. If we don’t resolve this, it reflects poorly on Diavolo and everything he’s trying to accomplish. That’s unacceptable."

Satan crossed his arms, eyeing Lucifer with a raised brow. "Of course you’d make it about Diavolo," he scoffed. "As if it’s not our failure that caused this in the first place."

Asmo leaned back, flipping his hair out of his face. "He’s right, though. We did mess up. But leave it to Lucifer to focus on saving Diavolo’s reputation instead of admitting we all screwed up."

Levi huffed from his corner, his eyes still glued to the floor. "Yeah, because it’s not like we’re the ones who pushed MC away or anything," he said sarcastically. "Why admit that when you can just blame it on the need to save face for the program?"

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His loyalty to Diavolo was unwavering, and while the others were right about their collective failure, the bigger picture was what mattered most to him. "This isn’t just about us," he said, his voice tight. "It’s about maintaining the integrity of the exchange program and Diavolo’s goals. We have to fix this."

"Sure," Mammon snorted. "’Cause that’s what matters, right? Not the fact that we treated MC like shit."

Beel, quiet as ever, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "We didn’t think MC would just leave like that. But if they didn’t wait, it’s because we gave them no reason to."

Lucifer glanced at Beel, his expression softening just slightly. "I know we failed them. But if we don’t resolve this, Diavolo’s entire vision is at risk. We owe it to him—and to MC—to make things right."

Satan let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Fine, let’s go to Diavolo. But don't pretend this is just about protecting Diavolo’s reputation. You need to acknowledge that we failed MC. We can’t keep avoiding that."

Lucifer didn’t respond, but the tension in his stance remained. He knew they were right—on some level, he had to admit their failure was personal. But he couldn’t let the exchange program fall apart because of their mistakes. They had to make things right, for both MC and Diavolo.

When they arrived at the castle, the atmosphere was tense. Diavolo stood before them, his expression stern, a stark contrast to his usual warmth.

“What is it you want?” Diavolo asked, his tone steady but his eyes narrowing slightly. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

Lucifer stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. “We want to go to the human world and bring MC back.”

Diavolo’s expression hardened. “No.”

The rejection was swift, but none of the brothers moved. Lucifer squared his shoulders. “You gave us one task, and we failed it. But we can’t just leave things as they are. MC didn’t deserve the way we treated them. We can fix this, but only if you give us the chance.”

Diavolo’s eyes flickered, but his voice remained firm. “And why should I believe you won’t fail again?”

Mammon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke up. “Because we ain’t the same idiots we were when they first came here. We get it now. We messed up big time, and MC’s the one who paid the price. But we can make things right.”

Levi fidgeted nervously before chiming in. “We… we didn’t realize how much we hurt them. But we’re not asking for an easy way out. We just want to explain. To show them that things can be different.”

Asmo, for once not focused on himself, added, “They deserve to know that they matter. That we care. We didn’t show it before, but we will now.”

Satan’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of frustration in his tone. “We understand that we have to respect their decision. But we can’t just leave it like this without at least trying.”

Beel’s deep voice was the last to cut through the tension. “We owe them more than an apology. We owe them a choice.”

Diavolo remained silent, his gaze sweeping over each of the brothers. There was no arrogance in their voices, no bravado. They were genuinely remorseful, determined to make amends. But the weight of their failure still lingered heavily between them.

“You realize,” Diavolo began slowly, his voice thoughtful, “that this isn’t just about saying sorry. If I allow this, you will have only one chance.”

Lucifer nodded firmly. “We understand.”

Diavolo watched them closely, his gaze sharp. “Whatever happens, you will live with the consequences. If MC agrees to return, you will respect every boundary, every condition they set. No arguments. No excuses. And if MC says no, you will never reach out to them again. You will let them live their life, free of interference from the Devildom. Can you accept that?”

Another pause, then the brothers spoke almost in unison. “Yes.”

Diavolo sighed, his expression softening, though there was still a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Very well. I’ll grant you permission to go to the human world and speak with them. But remember this—this is your last chance. Whatever MC decides, you must honor it. Do I make myself clear?”

Lucifer nodded.

Diavolo looked at each of them again, his gaze lingering on Lucifer for a moment longer before he nodded. “Then go."

With Diavolo’s permission granted, the brothers turned to leave. They had one chance. One last opportunity to make things right with MC. Whatever happened next, they knew they would have to face it head-on.

And this time, they wouldn’t fail.

The journey to the human world felt strange, foreign even to those accustomed to traveling between realms.

They stood together in awkward silence, the unfamiliarity of the human realm unsettling for even the most composed of them. Lucifer led the group, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the tension in his shoulders was clear. This wasn’t about comfort—this was about obligation. He had made it clear to Diavolo, and to his brothers, that they were here to fix their failure.

The air felt heavier as they approached MC’s neighborhood. The houses were neat and quiet, each one blending into the next, a far cry from the towering grandeur of the Devildom. There was no magic here, no signs of the supernatural, only the mundanity of the human world. It was a stark reminder of how far MC had truly come to be with them—and how easily they had pushed them away.

“Doesn’t feel like they’d be expectin’ us,” Mammon muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking nervously from one house to the next.

“They’re not,” Satan replied curtly, his hands shoved into his pockets. “But they’ll have to hear us out.”

Levi was silent, his anxiety apparent in the way his eyes darted to every unfamiliar detail. He wasn’t sure how they were supposed to approach this. What if MC just slammed the door in their faces?

Beel’s gaze was fixed on the house as they approached it, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We need to make this right,” he said quietly, though it was more to himself than anyone else.

Lucifer didn’t respond, but his pace didn’t falter. His mind was focused, sharp. This wasn’t about personal feelings—this was about salvaging the exchange program, Diavolo’s vision. But the closer they got to MC’s home, the more the weight of their earlier failure pressed on him.

They reached MC’s house, a modest home nestled in the middle of the street. It was so normal, so human. It was hard to believe that the person they had failed lived here, in a place so different from the Devildom. The brothers exchanged uncertain glances, but Lucifer’s expression remained as stoic as ever.

Lucifer stepped up to the door and knocked, the sound loud in the quiet of the neighborhood. There was a pause, and for a moment, it seemed like the door wouldn’t open at all.

But then it did.

MC stood in the doorway, eyes wide with surprise. They blinked, clearly shocked to see the brothers standing on their doorstep. For a moment, they said nothing, their expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

“Lucifer?” MC finally spoke, their voice cautious. They glanced past him at the rest of the brothers, their confusion deepening. “What are you all doing here?”

They didn’t step back, didn’t invite the brothers in. Instead, they remained frozen, their body language tense, as if they didn’t know whether to retreat or demand an explanation.

Lucifer cleared his throat, his voice calm and measured, though there was a slight edge to it. “We’ve come to speak with you.”

MC frowned, clearly taken aback. “Why?” Their tone wasn’t angry, but there was a guardedness in it, a wariness that hadn’t been there before.

“We need to make things right,” Lucifer said, his words deliberate. “We owe you an apology."

MC crossed their arms, their brow furrowing. “You came all the way to the human world just to apologize?”

Lucifer met their gaze evenly. “Yes.”

MC blinked again, clearly not expecting that answer. They stayed in the doorway, not moving, their confusion evident. “I don’t understand. Why now? You didn’t care before.”

The question hung in the air, and the brothers exchanged glances, each one feeling the weight of MC’s words. They were right. They hadn’t cared—or at least, they hadn’t shown it. Now, they were faced with the consequences of that neglect.

Satan spoke first, his voice steady. “We didn’t realize how badly we handled things until it was too late.”

Levi shifted awkwardly, his fingers fidgeting. “We… we thought you’d be okay. That we didn’t need to do anything different.”

Mammon scratched the back of his neck, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “We screwed up, alright? We know that now.”

MC’s gaze flicked between the brothers, clearly still confused. “But why does it matter to you now? You never gave me a reason to think it did.”

Asmo stepped forward, his usual charm subdued. “It’s not just about us. You deserved better than how we treated you.”

Beel nodded slightly, his deep voice quiet. “We need to fix this. If you’ll let us.”

Lucifer, his voice as calm, added, “We’re here to offer you the choice. You don’t have to decide now. But we’d like to explain… if you’re willing to listen.”

MC stood in silence for a moment, their eyes scanning the group. They still looked uncertain, confused. They had left the Devildom for a reason, and now the same people who had driven them away were standing on their doorstep, asking for a chance.

Lucifer didn’t press further, his gaze steady but not demanding. “We’ll only take as much time as you allow. The decision is yours.”

MC remained rooted in place, unsure whether to let them in or turn them away.

MC sighed heavily, the weight of the situation evident in their expression. They stepped aside, opening the door wider. "One chance. That’s all you’re getting," they said, voice low but firm. "But I’m not promising anything."

The brothers exchanged glances, a mix of tension and uncertainty passing between them. One by one, they followed MC inside, stepping into the human world in a way that felt far too personal, far too grounded. This wasn’t the vast halls of the Devildom or the intimidating presence of Diavolo’s castle. This was MC’s home—ordinary, familiar, and completely foreign to them.

As they entered, they couldn’t help but look around, taking in the details of MC’s space. The house was warm and lived-in, with a simplicity that contrasted sharply with the dark elegance of the Devildom. Personal items were scattered about—photographs on shelves, books stacked on a coffee table, the faint smell of something homemade lingering in the air. It was a place of comfort, a stark reminder of everything MC had left behind when they were dragged to the Devildom.

Their gazes softened for a moment as they looked around, taking in the humanity of it all. It was a world they didn’t understand, a world that MC had been forced to leave behind. And now they were standing in the middle of it, unwelcome guests in a place that clearly wasn’t theirs.

"Follow me," MC said, leading them through the house to the living room.

The brothers shuffled in awkwardly, unsure of where to stand or what to say. The living room was modest, with a worn couch and a few comfortable chairs. MC gestured toward the seating. "Sit wherever," they said, making their way to a large, well-worn armchair in the corner of the room—their favorite spot.

The brothers hesitated for a moment before taking seats. Mammon flopped onto the couch, trying to mask his unease. Levi nervously perched on the edge of a chair, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeves. Asmo crossed his legs delicately, still glancing around the room. Beel, as large as he was, tried to make himself smaller in one of the armchairs, while Satan leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

Lucifer, ever the leader, remained standing, though his posture was more measured now. After a brief silence, he nodded to the others. “We owe you an explanation.”

Mammon was the first to speak. He scratched the back of his neck. "Look, I didn’t mean anythin’ by the stuff I said back in the Devildom. You’re not useless. I just… I didn’t think about how it sounded." He glanced at MC, guilt flickering across his face. "I’m sorry for all the times I treated ya like a burden. That wasn’t fair."

Levi shifted in his seat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it, you being a human and all. It felt… weird. But it wasn’t because I hated you or anything. I just didn’t know what to do."

Satan, his arms still crossed, spoke next, his voice calm but measured. "I was too focused on my own pursuits to notice how you were feeling. I treated you like an afterthought because I assumed you’d adapt. That was my mistake."

Asmo leaned forward slightly, his usual charm dimmed. "I thought I was helping, you know? Giving you tips, telling you how to look your best. But I guess I never really thought about what you needed, not just what I thought you should be."

Beel, quiet as always, spoke softly. "I didn’t think about how my indifference affected you. I didn’t realize you felt so out of place because of it. I’m sorry I made you feel like you didn’t matter... and that I didn't step in even though I saw they way my brothers treated you."

Finally, Lucifer stepped forward, his gaze steady as he addressed MC directly. "We failed you. I failed you. We were tasked with making you feel welcome in the Devildom, and we did the opposite. But I’m asking you now to return to the Devildom and take part in the exchange program again. This time, things will be different. You have my word that your boundaries will be respected, and your needs will be considered. The choice is yours."

MC stared at them, their expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise. Their hands clenched the arms of the chair, and their breathing became heavier.

"You think this is that simple?" MC’s voice was tight, their body rigid with restrained emotion. “You think you can just come here, apologize, and ask me to go back like nothing happened?”

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the shift in MC’s tone.

“You don’t get it, do you?" MC’s voice grew louder, their frustration bubbling to the surface. "I was trying so hard. I was trying to adapt to everything, to be understanding, to keep up with whatever the hell was happening. But none of you cared. None of you bothered to see how hard it was for me.”

Their eyes welled up with tears, but their anger didn’t waver. "I stepped up, even though I had no idea what the fuck was going on! I was thrown into a world I didn’t understand, and you treated me like I was beneath you because I’m human."

Levi shifted uncomfortably, his guilt written across his face.

"You all ignored the fact that I’m human. Do you even realize what that means?" MC’s voice cracked with anger and hurt. "The human world is nothing like the Devildom. We don’t have magic. We don’t have super strength. Everything you guys take for granted? We don’t have that. All the dangers I was exposed to, all the things I saw? I only knew about that stuff from works of fiction!"

The brother's expressions tightened, but they remained silent, letting MC speak.

"I didn’t ask for any of it!" MC continued, their voice rising. "And all I expected—all I wanted—was some support. But even that was too much for you."

Tears streamed down their face as they yelled, their emotions finally spilling over. "You treated me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter. And you didn’t even realize it!"

MC’s breath came in shaky gasps as they continued, their voice rising again. "You never thought about what it was like for me, did you? To be ripped out of my world, thrown into yours without a choice. You have no idea what that felt like. The fear, the confusion…"

Their eyes flickered to Lucifer, their tone sharp. "Lucifer, you were supposed to guide me, to make sure I was okay. But all you did was push me harder. You kept demanding more, expecting me to be perfect, like I was supposed to just know how everything worked. You never stopped to think that maybe I couldn’t keep up because I had no idea what I was doing!"

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, allowing MC’s words to cut through the air.

"I kept trying!" MC shouted, their voice cracking again. "I tried to understand all of you! I tried to accept you as you were because I thought… I thought maybe, just maybe, we could make this work. But none of you did that for me. None of you even bothered to try to understand or get to know me."

They took a shaky breath, their fists clenched at their sides. "You all treated me like I was less than you. Like I was just some... pest. Do you even realize how much that hurt?"

Their eyes flitted to Mammon, and their voice softened, though the pain was still raw. "We made a pact... I thought we could be friends, but instead, every day you called me a burden, Mammon, every day you called me useless, and I believed it."

Mammon shifted uncomfortably, his gaze lowering to the floor.

"And Levi…" MC’s voice cracked with hurt. "You made me feel like I was some kind of alien. I tried to get closer, to understand your hobbies, your games, your anime, but you didn’t want me there. You didn’t want me at all."

Levi swallowed hard, his fingers twitching nervously, but he remained silent.

"Satan…" MC shook their head, their voice trembling. "You acted like I was nothing more than an inconvenience. I tried to learn from you, to be better, but you couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge me."

Satan’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—regret, perhaps, or guilt.

"Asmo…" MC’s gaze hardened. "You treated me like I was a toy. You never cared about what I was feeling, only how I looked."

Asmo bit his lip, his usual charm nowhere to be found.

"And Beel…" MC’s voice softened again, though the hurt was clear. "You never cared whether I was there or not. You never even saw me, not really."

Beel’s brow furrowed, his expression conflicted, but he stayed silent.

MC’s voice shook as they continued, the flood of emotions finally breaking through. "Do any of you have any idea what it was like for me? Did any of you stop to think, even for a second, what I was going through? I was terrified, overwhelmed, and completely lost, and none of you cared. You just went on with your lives like it didn’t matter."

Their chest heaved as they struggled to rein in their emotions, tears streaming down their face. "I didn’t ask to be dragged into the Devildom! You all brought me there! I was tossed into an ocean of unknowns and left to drown!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of MC’s words settling over the brothers like a lead blanket. Each of them sat in their guilt, forced to confront the truth they had ignored for far too long.

They took a deep breath, wiping the tears from their face. "I get it. You’re all different. Your personalities, your sins—they make you who you are. But it still hurt. And you never even noticed."

The room was thick with tension, the weight of MC’s words still hanging in the air. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional shifting of one of the brothers. They could feel the storm of emotions brewing within MC, but none of them knew how to approach it.

It was Mammon, uncharacteristically quiet for most of the conversation, who finally broke the silence. His voice was softer than usual, hesitant. "Why didn’t ya wait? Why didn’t ya give us a chance to—"

"I did wait!" MC screamed, their voice cracking with the raw force of emotion. Their words sliced through the air, and the brothers stiffened, caught off guard by the intensity of the outburst. "I waited for days. I stayed at the castle, going back and forth in my head, wondering if I should stay in the Devildom or leave."

They took a shaky breath, the flood of emotions overwhelming them. "I was hoping—no, praying—that one of you would notice. That one of you would realize I was gone and do something. I thought maybe… maybe you’d text me, or call, or show up and ask where I was. But none of you did! Not a single one of you noticed I wasn’t there!"

Lucifer’s eyes darkened with a mix of guilt and frustration, but he didn’t speak. Neither did the others.

"I kept thinking that maybe I was just overwhelmed," MC continued, their voice trembling. "That maybe I needed time to clear my head, and someone—anyone—would realize I was gone. But you didn’t. None of you cared enough to ask where I was."

Their hands were clenched into fists at their sides, their anger spilling over. "Do you even know how long I waited before leaving? How long I sat in that castle, hoping that you’d notice?"

The brothers remained silent, each of them wrestling with their own guilt. MC’s eyes flickered between them, their breath coming in short bursts.

"How long did it take for you to realize I was gone?" MC asked, their voice cutting through the silence like a knife. Their gaze was sharp, demanding an answer. But none of the brothers spoke. Not a single one of them could bring themselves to say it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. The truth was clear in their hesitation—it had taken far too long for them to realize MC had left.

MC let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "That’s what I thought."

Lucifer stood still, his usual composed demeanor fraying at the edges. He couldn’t meet MC’s eyes. The weight of their words, the sharp truth of how deeply they had been hurt, cut through him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I failed you,” he finally said, his voice low but clear. There was no defensiveness, no attempt to explain away his actions. Just a cold admission of the truth. "My priority has always been the exchange program, ensuring it succeeded for Diavolo’s sake. I didn’t stop to think about the toll it was taking on you."

He took a breath, trying to maintain his composure, but the guilt was palpable. "I pushed you because I assumed you could adapt quickly. I expected you to adjust without fully understanding the strain I was placing on you. That was wrong. I should have noticed your absence, but I was too focused on everything else. On controlling the situation."

His fists clenched at his sides. The fact that he, the one who prided himself on being aware of every detail, had completely overlooked MC’s struggles stung his pride deeply. Yet, even now, he struggled to express anything beyond responsibility for the failure.

"I should have reached out. I should have ensured you were taken care of. That’s on me." His voice hardened, more with self-directed frustration than anything else. "But I can’t change the past. All I can do is offer my word that, if you return, things will be different. You’ll have the support you deserved from the start. I’ll make sure of it."

There was no grand apology, no emotional outpouring. This was Lucifer, after all. But in his own way, he was laying down the burden of perfection, admitting his faults, and offering what he could—a promise to do better.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably, the guilt weighing heavily on him as MC’s words echoed in his mind. He was used to deflecting, cracking jokes, or brushing things off, but this was different. The raw hurt in MC’s voice had stripped away his usual defenses, leaving him feeling exposed.

He finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual. "Look, I didn’t think—no, I know I didn’t think. I was stupid, alright? I didn’t mean half the stuff I said to ya, callin’ ya a burden and all that. I thought we were just messin’ around, y’know? But I see now that it wasn’t like that for you."

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t shake. "I didn’t notice you were gone ‘cause I wasn’t payin’ attention. I was too caught up in my own crap, thinkin’ you’d just be fine on your own. But ya weren’t, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late."

Mammon’s eyes flicked toward MC, the usual spark of confidence gone, replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "I shoulda been there for ya. You’re my responsibility—I’m your first, after all and I was startin' to enjoy havin' ya around. And instead of bein’ there when ya needed me, I pushed ya away."

His voice softened, regret heavy in his words. "If I had just checked in, sent a stupid text, somethin'—maybe ya wouldn’t have left. But I didn’t, and that’s on me."

He took a deep breath, his usual bravado completely absent. "I’m sorry. I dunno how else to say it. I messed up big time, and I wanna fix it, if you’ll let me."

Mammon looked down at the floor, unable to meet MC’s eyes any longer, his usual cockiness replaced with genuine remorse.

Levi sat rigidly in his chair, his fingers twitching as he tried to form the right words. Anxiety clung to him, making it hard to even look up at MC. His usual self-deprecating thoughts were swirling in his mind, amplified by the heavy silence that followed Mammon’s apology.

"I... I didn’t know you felt that way," Levi stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought… I thought you didn’t really care about me. Like, why would you? I’m just some otaku, stuck in my room, not worth bothering with."

He tugged at his sleeves, fidgeting, the weight of guilt pressing down hard. "I—I kept calling you a normie, pushing you away, ‘cause… I didn’t know how to deal with you being around. I thought you’d never get me. Like, how could you understand me? So, I kept my distance. I didn’t want to let you in."

Levi finally glanced up at MC, his eyes filled with regret. "But that wasn’t fair. You… you tried. You were trying to get close, to understand me, and I didn’t let you. I didn’t see how much you were struggling. I was too wrapped up in my own insecurities to even notice you were gone. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve said something, but I just—"

He stopped, biting his lip, his gaze dropping back to the floor. "I screwed up. And the worst part is, I made you feel like you didn’t belong, like you didn’t matter. But you do. I… I’m sorry."

The silence that followed was deafening to Levi. He didn’t know if his words meant anything, but it was all he could offer now. The regret, the shame—it all churned in his gut, knowing he had failed to be a friend when MC needed one the most.

Satan stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He had listened intently as each of his brothers spoke, but now that it was his turn, the weight of his own actions—or lack thereof—pressed on him. Unlike the others, Satan wasn’t one for emotional outbursts or long-winded apologies, but he knew MC deserved more than just silence.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he began, his tone measured, controlled. "I’ve always been more focused on my own interests. Books, knowledge, the pursuit of understanding… I’ve lived with the assumption that I didn’t need to involve myself in others’ lives unless it directly concerned me."

He met MC’s eyes for the first time, his usual calm replaced with a tinge of regret. "I treated you like you didn’t exist. I didn’t see you struggling because, frankly, I didn’t care enough to look."

Satan paused, his voice tightening with frustration. "I should have known better. I’m not a fool. I’m aware of how difficult it must have been for you, adjusting to the Devildom, dealing with us. But I ignored it. I let my own indifference and arrogance blind me to what was happening right in front of me."

He took a slow breath, his jaw clenched slightly. "I didn’t notice when you left because, in my mind, you were just another part of the background. But I realize now how wrong that was. I should have paid attention. I should have acknowledged your presence, your struggles, from the very start."

Satan’s voice softened, though it remained steady. "You deserved better than how I treated you. I can’t change the way I acted, but I can promise that, if you give us another chance, things will be different. I’ll be better."

There was no dramatic flair in his words, no false humility. It was simply the truth as he saw it—a cold admission of how deeply he had failed to live up to his own standards.

Asmo shifted in his seat, his usual charm and carefree attitude nowhere to be found. The guilt was evident in his eyes, but beneath it, there was a hint of confusion. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—uncertain, unsure of how to fix what had been broken.

"Darling," Asmo began softly, his voice lacking its usual flirtatious lilt, "I… I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you."

He folded his hands in his lap, fidgeting slightly, a stark contrast to his usual self-assured posture. "I thought… well, I thought I was helping. You know? I mean, I love helping people express themselves. I thought if I gave you advice, helped you look your best, it would make things easier for you in the Devildom."

He paused, biting his lip as he tried to find the right words. "But I get it now. I wasn’t thinking about what you wanted. I was just focused on what I thought you needed. I treated you like you were just some kind of project—something to dress up, to show off."

Asmo’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. "I didn’t care about what you were going through. I didn’t stop to think about how you felt, how overwhelmed you must’ve been."

He looked down at his hands, his fingers twirling a ring absently. "I should’ve noticed. I should’ve been there for you—not as someone trying to change you, but as someone who cared about you. The real you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner."

For once, Asmo seemed lost for words. His usual self-confidence had been stripped away, leaving behind something more vulnerable. "I just… I want you to know that I do care. I always did, in my own way. I just went about it the wrong way."

Beel sat quietly, his large hands resting on his knees as he processed everything MC had said. His usual calm, almost stoic demeanor had given way to a sense of heaviness that weighed on him in a way that even food couldn’t distract him from. He looked down, his brow furrowed, trying to find the right words to explain what he was feeling.

"I didn’t notice you were gone," Beel said, his voice deep and quiet. "And I should have. I’m sorry."

He shifted in his seat, his gaze still focused on the floor. "I’ve always been focused on my hunger, on making sure I didn’t lose control. And because of that, I didn’t pay attention to how you were feeling. I didn’t think about how hard things were for you."

Beel’s eyes flicked up to meet MC’s, the sincerity in his voice clear. "I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible. I just… I didn’t know how to be there for you. I figured as long as I wasn’t hurting you, it didn’t matter if I wasn’t around. But I was wrong."

He took a breath, his hands clenching slightly in frustration with himself. "I should have noticed you were struggling. I should have made sure you were okay. But I didn't."

There was a pause as Beel collected his thoughts, trying to put into words the regret he felt. "I’m sorry for the times I made you feel like you didn’t belong. I didn’t see how much it hurt you, but I see it now. And if you give us a chance, I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way again."

Beel’s expression was somber, his usual calmness replaced with a quiet guilt that weighed heavily on him. He wasn’t one for grand speeches, but in this moment, his words carried the weight of his sincerity.

MC’s hands trembled slightly as they wiped their eyes, their voice still raw from the intensity of their outburst. The confessions and apologies from each brother had hit them hard, but there was still a part of them that remained guarded. They looked at the brothers, one by one, searching their faces for something—anything—to prove that their words were more than just an attempt to ease their own guilt.

"Do you really mean it?" MC asked, their voice quieter now but still carrying a sharp edge of vulnerability. "All of you? Are you really sorry, or are you just saying this because you feel guilty?"

The brothers exchanged glances, the weight of the question pressing down on them. It wasn’t just an apology MC needed—it was proof that they could trust the brothers again.

Lucifer spoke first, his voice steady and firm. "I meant every word. We’ve failed you, and I won’t deny that. But I wouldn’t ask you to return if I didn’t believe we could make things right this time."

Mammon nodded quickly, his hands fidgeting nervously. "Yeah, we ain’t just sayin’ it to make ourselves feel better. I messed up, but I ain’t gonna let that happen again. I promise, MC."

Levi swallowed hard, still battling his anxiety. "I… I mean it too. I don’t want to push you away anymore. I’ll try harder to let you in."

Satan uncrossed his arms, his expression more thoughtful. "I don’t make promises lightly. But if I say I’ll do better, I will. You have my word."

Asmo leaned forward, his voice softer than usual. "I really do care, darling. I may not have shown it the right way before, but I’ll do better. I promise."

Beel, as straightforward as ever, added quietly, "I’m sorry for everything. I’ll try to be more aware of you, of what you need. You deserve that."

MC looked down for a moment, their mind racing. They had every right to walk away, to tell the brothers it was too late, that the damage was done. But something deep inside them—something that had longed for connection, for understanding—pushed them to speak again.

"I’ll come back," MC said slowly, their voice still shaky, "but only if things change. I’m not asking all of you to suddenly like me or be my best friend, but I need you to try. To at least get to know me on some level. I want to feel like I belong, and that won’t happen unless you put in some effort."

The brothers were silent, listening closely as MC continued. "I need you to be more understanding, more supportive. I’ve been doing this on my own, and I can’t come back if it’s going to be like that again. I need to know that you’ll try—that you’ll actually make an effort this time."

The weight of MC’s decision hung in the air, but for the first time since the conversation began, a sense of relief settled over the room. The brothers exchanged glances, the unspoken understanding that this was their second chance—the one they couldn’t afford to waste.

Lucifer stepped forward slightly, his voice steady but softer than before. "We’ll return to the Devildom together. You have my word, things will be different."

Mammon flashed a small grin, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his expression. "Yeah, this time, we’ve got your back, promise. Ya won’t regret comin’ back with us."

Levi nodded quickly, still fidgeting. "I’ll... I’ll try to be better. We’ll make sure you don’t feel alone this time."

Satan gave a brief nod, his voice as firm as ever. "We’ll make the Devildom feel like a place you belong. It won’t be like before."

Asmo, flashing his usual charming smile, added, "This time, darling, we’ll show you that you're welcome. I’ll make sure of it."

Beel simply nodded, his deep voice reassuring. "We’ll look out for you, like we should have from the start."

MC felt the heaviness in their chest lift slightly. There was still a lot of work to be done—trust to rebuild, feelings to unpack—but maybe this time, it could work. They gave a small nod, their voice steady but cautious. "Alright. Let’s go back. Together."

The brothers seemed to relax, the tension in the room dissolving just a little. Lucifer gestured toward the door, his usual authoritative air returning. "Then let’s not waste any more time."

With that, they left MC’s house, stepping back into the human world’s fading light. The transition back to the Devildom felt different this time, the air buzzing with a mix of uncertainty and determination.

As they stood together in front of the portal, the brothers and MC exchanged one last glance. It wasn’t just a return to the Devildom—it was the beginning of a new chapter. One built on mutual effort, understanding, and, most importantly, the chance to do things right.

Together, they stepped through the portal, leaving the human world behind. The familiar sights of the Devildom greeted them on the other side, but this time, the tension that once filled the space between them had begun to fade.

This time, they returned as something more—something closer to what MC and the brother's had always needed.

[the-way-astray]

keefe has never gaslit or extorted anyone ever . manipulate MAYBE and i ONLY say that because katie knows all but i draw a line at extortion you arae wrong

hi, anon! those are some opinions you got there! obviously, it seems you've made up your mind, so my goal isn't to change your opinion, but rather to defend my side. i believe gaslighting is actually a form of manipulation, and you've already acknowledged that keefe could be manipulative, so i'm not really going to talk about that. however, it seems you feel very strongly about the extortion thing, so let's chat.

keefe's threats don't tend to come off as threats, because he's usually camouflaging them as something else, but the force (his use of empathy) is blatantly obvious. here are some examples (copy-pasting from my rant, only the stuff in the [brackets] is new):

(note: these are all out of order and i'm tired so i'm not citing shit. i may or may not change that later. point is, there is evidence in the text that proves that keefe is an extortive little shit, which is what i'm trying to prove.)

“Keefe nudged Dex’s arm, then grinned at Sophie. ‘Interesting.’ ‘What?’ Dex asked. ‘Which one’s your gift, Dex?’ Sophie interrupted. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Keefe was going to tease Dex about.” Here we mark the start of Keefe using his empathy to learn people’s secrets without their consent. He feels not a hint of remorse for it, and instead uses it as a way to breach people’s boundaries and embarrass them. As a lot of people have already said, Keefe is the primary reason empathy should have similar restrictions on it to telepathy. [He obtained something (Dex's feelings, without permission, for no other reason than he wanted to) through force (his use of empathy).]

“He reached out and brushed Grady’s arm. ‘Whoa—that is some serious tension radiating off of you. Is it that bad?’” Again, here we see an example of Keefe breaching boundaries and using his ability to get people to tell him things they aren’t comfortable telling him. If Keefe was a Telepath, this would be breaking the law. In case you care. [Same thing as above.]

“Keefe grabbed Fitz’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the exposed skin. ‘Hate to break it to you, but I can tell you’re hiding something.’” (26) Another example of Keefe breaching personal boundaries and using his empathy to extort secrets out of people to get him to tell things they wouldn’t ordinarily tell him. This happens a lot starting in this book, and yes, I am going to point them all out. By the way, what Fitz was hiding was not at all important to their mission. It’s a secret of Sophie’s that Fitz accidentally saw and was forced to tell because of Keefe. And Keefe tries to make fun of Sophie for it, but is cut off. [Same as above.]

“Keefe spotted the crush cuffs about ten seconds after he got to Havenfield the next morning—despite the long-sleeved tunic Sophie had worn to keep them covered. And he dragged out the rest of the story with a relentless bombardment of questions.” Can Keefe keep his nose out of Sophie’s personal business for even a minute??? The “dragged” here is very telling: Sophie would not have chosen to tell Keefe all this of her own free will. He bombards her with questions, and so she tells him, not because she wants to, but because she knows that he won’t shut up until he has the full story. This is Sophie’s secret. Sophie’s business (and Dex’s). Keefe has no right to ask about the cuffs at all. The fact that he “retelentless[ly]” asked her questions until she was forced to tell him the entire story is not a good thing. It does not demonstrate trust, but quite the opposite: a breach of personal boundaries. Keefe is so toxic, I honestly find it impressive how Shannon has twisted him into a seemingly perfect-angel love interest. [He obtains something (what happened between Sophie and Dex) through force (his questions, which are specifically described using the words "dragged" and "relentless", as I stated).]

“She could feel him reaching for her glove—and yanked her hand away.” Keefe tries to breach Sophie’s boundaries. But what else is new. [Once again, he tries to extort, yes, extort, Sophie's feelings out of her. He isn't successful, but hopefully this proves that Sophie is not a willing participant here.]

“He traced his thumb over the sliver of skin between her glove and the edge of her beaded sleeve. ‘There’s something you’re not saying right now. I can feel it.’” (12) Keefe once again breaches boundaries because he can’t keep his nose out of other people’s personal feelings. He has no right to just help himself to Sophie’s emotions like that. It’s a massive breach of boundaries, and then using that to try to pry the secret out of her is nothing short of repulsive behavior. [He obtains something (Sophie's feelings, specifically the feeling of "she's not saying something", which he states) through force (his empathy).]

“Keefe snatched Fitz’s wrist. ‘I knew it!’ ‘Knew what?’ Fitz shouted, trying to wrench his arm away. Keefe tightened his grip. ‘Shhhhh, let the Empath work.’” (367) Oh, boy. Keefe really is such a manipulative asshole. He grabs Fitz’s hand to read his emotions because he wants to know why Fitz is offering to search his dad’s memories. He really can’t respect his supposed best friend’s privacy, can he? He can’t control himself; when he wants to know something he needs to have it right away. He breaches people’s trust and boundaries. Fitz tries to “wrench his arm away”, meaning that he’s uncomfortable and clearly doesn’t want this. But Keefe instead tightens his grip and forcibly extricates what he wants out of Fitz, even having the audacity to say “let the Empath work”. What an asshole. Honestly. He’s such a piece of shit. He’s a terrible person and the fact that Shannon is romanticizing this behavior is revolting. [He once again obtains something (Fitz's feelings, and from that the fact that he's trying to go after Alvar) through force (very literal here, he uses not only his empathy, but also his physical strength to keep Fitz from wrenching away).]

“‘Okay, two choices,’ Keefe told her, standing up and tilting her chin toward him. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong. Or I can put my Empath powers to work—but keep in mind, Option B will likely pick up on all kinds of other feelings.’ Sophie gave him her surliest scowl, but he didn’t back down.” First of all, here’s another example of Keefe touching Sophie’s face creepily. Secondly, Keefe just extorted Sophie’s personal feelings out of her. He just threatened to use his empathy on her if she didn’t tell him what was going on. He then said that if she didn’t tell him the thing she obviously doesn’t want to tell him, he’d not only use his power on her and figure it out, but would also probably pick up on other things she doesn’t want him knowing about. Sophie then makes it very obvious that she doesn’t want to do it, but he “didn’t back down”, by which Shannon of course means “didn’t respect Sophie’s feelings and her right to keep them to herself”. That is so. That is just. I don’t understand how Shannon somehow managed to twist this into Keefe caring about Sophie. He threatened, coerced, manipulated, and extorted her into telling him, sure, but caring about her??? Don’t make me laugh. Keefe is possibly the most toxic character in this entire series, and it is disgusting how Shannon gives the impression that this is caring behavior, or correct in any capacity at all. When someone wants to be left alone, you leave them alone. Keefe needs to go back to seventh grade health class, where they teach you that no means no. [My personal favorite example, because this is the one that most makes me think Shannon actively does not realize what a shitty character she's created in Keefe. He threatens Sophie (by telling her that if she didn't tell him, he'd forcefully take it from her, with some possible extra secrets, thrown in for funsies) into getting something he wants (her telling him what she's feeling). Yes, this is still shitty if you mask it as "caring". If Sophie doesn't want to talk, he needs to respect that, not pretend he knows her wishes better than she knows them herself. That is gaslighting. And taking away someone's agency to make their own decisions regarding their own feelings is bad and not good!]

[block limits are fun!!!]

“‘[ . . . ] forced herself to meet Keefe’s ice blue eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ When he raised one eyebrow, she added, ‘I’m just frustrated [ . . . ]’” (7) That’s right, the page numbers return. And I have physical copies of the rest of the series, so they’re here to stay. It may seem like Keefe is just trying to check on Sophie and make sure she’s okay, which is a noble cause, but when someone says they don’t want to talk about something, that means they don’t want to talk about it. That does not mean you prod and prod until they spill. So many things Sophie tells Keefe get twisted and people think she tells him because she trusts him, but more often than not she doesn’t and he just prods her or extorts them out of her. [It may not seem like Keefe "prod[s] and prod[s]", as my past self put it. But this is Flashback, so you do have to take into account the fact that Sophie has been putting up with Keefe's shitty behavior for six books, so she succumbs quicker. She knows that he will just take it from her if she doesn't give him what she wants. There is a quote later down that proves this, actually (it'll be in red).]

“‘Yup! But I can’t stop her, so I might as well let her take you down with me.’” (97) This is Keefe talking about Ro using him as a lie detector to extort Sophie’s secret out of her, by the way. Which Keefe agrees to do. Which he wouldn’t do if he really was a good friend. Just like Sophie wouldn’t have to make this deal with Ro if Keefe would just listen to good advice for once and do the smart thing. But he doesn’t care about Sophie’s mental health, and he doesn't care about Sophie’s feelings, because or else he would respect them by agreeing to stay out of the Neverseen’s way and not using his empathy to extort secrets Sophie clearly doesn't want to share out of her. And Ro. Honestly, she’s even worse than Keefe, partly because of her personality, but mostly because of the wasted potential. Keefe was always going to be the “bad boy angsty prankster with daddy issues that causes trouble” trope that we've seen a million times. But Ro could’ve been so much more. She’s the ogre princess, and the most Shannon could do with her is make her a Sokeefe fangirl. [Again, Keefe uses his empathy (force) to keep Sophie honest as Ro forces her to tell her and Keefe the secret that she desperately doesn't want to tell to the both of them (obtaining something he wants). And this is somehow spun around and sold to the audience as caring.]

“‘But do you really think you’re going to be able to leave here without telling me what happened with the Forklenator? If you do, you’re going to be sorely, sorely disappointed—and covered in biscuit crumbs.’” (351) Again, Keefe as good as admits that he’d force Sophie to spill if she didn’t tell him what happened with Mr. Forkle. His extortive ways need to stop being glorified and start being treated like the horrific manipulation it is. [This may seem like a joke, but it got Sophie to spill, so I mean. And yes, Sophie came there with the intention of telling Keefe. But that doesn't change the fact that telling someone they have to tell you something they may not want to is shitty. Especially considering how Keefe has acted for the past seven books (this is in Legacy).]

“She wasn’t sure if they were allowed to tell him—but it was so much easier than arguing.” (336) Keefe has literally annoyed Sophie so much that she doesn’t even think it’s worth the fight to keep a secret. That’s not good. It means that Sophie just succumbs to whatever he wants without a thought. That’s pretty much the highest sign of a toxic relationship. [And the reason she succumbed? Because he consistently shows her he has the power to take what he wants from her, over and over and over, and consistently has threatened/forced her, so now she doesn't even think it's worth the fight to try to keep stuff secret anymore. I don't know what else to say. This is not good. It is not caring. It is extortive and shows a clear lack of trust in Sophie and Keefe's relationship.]

and just as a comparison point, here's what keefe using his empathy in a healthy, not extortive way looks like:

so yeah, i'd say keefe consistently and constantly extorts sophie (and others) when he decides it's convenient for him.

[herbofgraceandpeace]

Re: Flavian’s outburst to Christopher about how he (Christopher) has been an unfeeling, stuck-up brat—Flavian’s not exactly right or wrong here. I think Jones is demonstrating that Christopher is so caught up in his (very real) powerlessness to control his situation, he doesn’t realize that he DOES have the power to really and truly hurt others. He’s so caught up in his own misery that he (selfishly) forgets that others might be miserable too.

This is part of growing up! Christopher hasn’t really been taught empathy, and he hasn’t really had it modeled for him either, outside of Tacroy caring for him, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. He’s so focused on how the people at the castle aren’t caring for his conscious wants that he entirely ignores the ways they ARE intentionally and deliberately attempting to care for him (I think at least a little classism privilege is at play in him ignoring the maids—he’s only ever known his parents’ mistreatment of servants, but presumably he should have been paying attention to how the castle folk treat the maids differently)

However, I think the adults at Chrestomanci Castle are guilty of the exact same kind of blindness and self-focus as Christopher. They HAVEN’T been meeting his needs emotionally (which has led to their inability to physically protect him either), and whatever their intentions throughout his stay, they did not try to get to know or understand Christopher as a person at his arrival, and they’re paying for that first impression. He’s a CHILD. a child from an unloving and neglectful home, who’s just been ripped away from his friends and his home at school, a child’s just DIED for the second time, and he’s a child with hopes and dreams and self-will, all of which have just been casually, thoughtlessly stripped from him. The castle folk are so focused on their OWN need of a successor for Gabriel that they treat Christopher as an object to be formed to meet their needs instead of a person with needs of his own. They’re so focused on their search for the Wraith and the hell he’s wreaking on others that they miss the very real hell they’re imposing on Christopher. All of their attempts at care are based solely on their perception of what he SHOULD need and want because! They never! Ask him! What he needs or wants!!!!!

What’s that post about how some people act like “if you don’t give me the respect I think I deserve as an authority figure, I won’t give you the respect you deserve as a person”? I think that’s basically how the otherwise decent and well-meaning adults of Chrestomanci Castle treat little Christopher Chant. Confident in their own virtue, they presume that of course this boy who doesn’t know them will trust them immediately. Confident in their work for the greater good, they are indifferent to the suffering of the individual before them. It’s clear that they care about him and his well-being, but without treating him like a real person at all, and it’s never more obvious than in the scene where Gabriel takes his spare life away. They are taking tangible, drastic steps to protect him because they are very worried on his behalf, but throughout the whole process they have no real knowledge of the horror and terror he is experiencing because they are too busy making choices for him to ask him why he’s making the choices he does (and again, Christopher doesn’t TRUST them. But they never empathize with him enough to realize that.) Another example is how Miss Rosalie and the others keep chasing Throgmorton away from Christopher when he’s laid up. They’re so focused on how uncomfortable Throgmorton makes them feel that they don’t care at all they’re isolating Christopher and depriving him of his only companionship.

But none of their bad conduct exonerates Christopher of Flavian’s charges of being rude and unfeeling towards them, even though Flavian is STILL presuming to know and understand Christopher’s motivations and choices despite being completely in the dark about them. The very personhood Christopher wants the others to acknowledge in him is the reason that Christopher is responsible for his own actions towards the castle folk.

And that’s the tea on human responsibility in The Lives of Christopher Chant. (thanks for coming to my ted talk)

[weepingtalecowboy]

Four meets the colors

I decided to be absolutely evil so here you go fanfic prompt :

What if four was never capable to combine into link but they didn’t even get the opportunity to take turns because everyone controls different body parts and they have to coordinate absolutely everything together and pulling the four sword back just to be four people again isn’t something they can just do

They learned to live with it but no matter how hard they try to make it look naturally

they still move in a way that feels wrong even when they are trying hard to cooperate

Their feet have slight delay

their hands have trouble gripping stuff in a way that looks naturally and one hand might grip the wrong side of a box ending with nearly dropping it

Their face can show different and several emotions at once and they can sometimes be heard mumbling to themself

And because of that they are perceived as unsettling or unstable by their own village

Their father couldn’t truly understand or accept them because link his child essentially died and they know it no matter how hard he tries to hide it

Their grandpa is getting older and even though he grieved his grandson he still wanted to accept them and when he is gone they would only have Zelda left

And she spends most her time in the castle ruling Hyrule

Shadow is not coming back ever again

And because of that spend as much time as they can on blacksmithing to not have to worry about things

But when linked universe happens they meet a version of them that has everything they could possibly want

Like their own bodies and lives

Shadow is still alive

The village doesn’t fear them

Vio,Blue , Red and Green all get to go by their own names

And four has to go by link

It’s genuinely paining them because it just doesn’t seem fair

Main while the colors hate how four is looking at him

Because they used to think that link would understand and support their decision to stay apart

But obviously link feels to good about himself as the perfect and superior hero of the four sword

And they all start hating him for it because it means that their decision wasn’t approved by the one person it mattered from the most

The chain feels the tension but doesn’t really know how to fix it so they separate both

And when they all get to four’s Hyrule they feel ashamed of how bad they are viewed by their own village

Because the colors are loved but they are not

So they tell them that when they put the sword back they never became one

The colors feel absolutely horrified when they realize the implications

Because four's existence sounds like their worst nightmare

And it makes them feel sick

That a version of them could be so screwed over by their own existence

And shadow isn’t even with them

And their dad doesn’t even want them to exist

Man and they thought they had it rough

Four gets to meet shadow and has a mental breakdown over it

Shadow is also very disturbed by the situation

Also they keep four there is no way hylia can stop them (it still is extremely weird when they interact with their counterparts because they like don’t always have the same expressions )

but also four is all fucked up like red is delusional (he was doing his own thing the entire adventure in the manga), blue has an obsession with keeping things under control(getting frozen and swallowed by a host is not fun) (which is why he is so obsessed with cleaning because it gives him a way to control the environment ) , Vio is depressed about shadow,green has a hero complex (he is link if you delete all personality traits except hero)

Yeah that won’t be fun

The colors have it easy in comparison

[yesbutmakeitgay]

No One Breaks My Heart Like You

GIF by dailyflicks

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 7.5 | (Part 7)

Angst, Injuries, Divorce.

A/N: Best of luck to all of us...

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

Word count: 6.7k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

It’s been weeks since your disastrous break up with Carol, and she has spent every moment of that time trying to reach you unsuccessfully. She can’t track your devices, and you won’t answer any of her calls on your phone or at work.

In a deep moment of defeat, she decides to contact Fury, "Are you missing any agents?" she asks him suspiciously.

Fury doesn’t show any emotion, "Are you asking me if I've misplaced a whole person lately?"

Carol is unsure how to phrase her question without admitting to breaking the rules, "Have you?"

"There is an agent who hasn't come in for a while, is that what you're referring to?"

"Perhaps," The Captain gestures with her arms, "she's about this tall, great at her job, gorgeous."

"Carol, did you lose your wife?" he deadpans.

"My—what?" She tries to play it cool as nerves take over her entire body.

"Oh, come on, I’m not a fool, and you're not that sneaky."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Fury still seems completely unbothered, "She’s always with you when she's off work, you take your vacation at the exact same time, and there's a picture of her in your house."

"It's not a picture of her, it's a picture of us," Carol mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

"Whatever, I already know."

"So, you're not gonna tell me off?"

"She doesn't work for you, it's okay."

Carol shoots him an angry look, "Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"I figured I'd let you keep it up for as long as possible."

"You could have saved me a divorce!" That certainly catches Fury’s attention.

"Wait, what?"

She shows him two wedding bands, "I have both of these, I’m only supposed to have one!"

"That bad? What did you do?"

"Why do you assume it was my fault?"

"You're the one holding the rings."

Carol puts the bands on the table and responds in an aggressive tone, "She said I don't have enough time for her, which, did she not know she was marrying the single Avenger in charge of protecting the entire universe?"

He squints his eye, "What did she say exactly?"

"Something about my availability to everyone else."

"Did she give you a whole explanation and that's all you got from it?"

Carol remains silent, trying to remember your last conversation, "That's not the point, help me!"

"What do you want me to do?" he responds bluntly.

"I don’t know, page her? Say it's an emergency."

Fury sighs and looks at her with sympathy, "For you, I will try, but you should know that once she's off the grid, she's impossible to track down."

"That's gotta be an exaggeration."

"Like you just said, she's great at her job," he pauses, "my best spy doing desk work, that must have been a tough choice for her, I wonder why she did that," his tone is taunting, making Carol’s features turn to guilt, "I would hope that whoever pushed her to make that decision made up for it by spending lots of quality time with her," he suggests not so subtly.

"That's bullshit, if I had known we didn't need to hide from you—" Carol is interrupted by an alarm going off in Fury’s office.

"Hold that thought, I have to go. I will page her, but I'll stop at five attempts, if you don't hear from me, that's because I didn't hear from her."

He hangs up, and Carol is left alone once again.

A few days later, Carol arrives unannounced to New Asgard, she confidently makes her way to The King’s office and demands, "Take a walk with me."

Valkyrie’s eyes reluctantly travel away from her work to look at Carol, "You think you can just show up and ask for whatever you want? I am a King, I have responsibilities." It is clear in Valkyrie’s voice that she is still not on the best terms with her.

Carol completely disregards Val’s displeasure in favor of getting what she wants, "Like what?" she challenges.

Valkyrie looks around trying to produce a response and coming up empty, "…A walk then."

They take a stroll around the palace, mostly in silence, Val knows Carol just wanted an excuse to look for you in every corner of her Kingdom. After rounding the entire building, they return to The King's office.

"You're missing a ship," Carol points out as they enter.

"I know exactly where all my belongings are, do you?"

"She doesn't belong to me," The Captain murmurs.

Valkyrie swiftly sits on her chair and crosses her legs, "But you learned that the hard way."

"Can you just tell me where she is?"

"Why? So you can piss her off again?" Val bites.

"You have no idea what happened." Carol’s eyes bore into Valkyrie’s, but The King isn’t fazed by the action.

"I have no idea where she is," Valkyrie asserts smugly, "as your friend, let me just tell you, sometimes you can be really stupid. I say it with love," The Captain huffs at the hypocrisy, "and she's not here, at least not anymore."

Carol feels her heartbeat race, "But she was?"

"She stayed for a few days after I picked her up, didn't tell me where she went." The king's assistant knocks on the open door to announce their presence, Valkyrie nods to them and directs herself to Carol, "You should go."

Carol leaves the palace, but decides to stay in New Asgard for a bit, having nowhere else to go.

After a few hours of mindlessly roaming the town, Carol gets a call, "Fury, did you find her?" she answers hurriedly.

"There's been a strange object hovering Earth, can you check it out, please?"

"On it," she accepts, thinking it’ll be a good distraction. She flies to the coordinates and finds a spaceship.

Captain Marvel enters the familiar ship carefully, she points her lit up fist in a general forward direction as she scans every inch of the vessel with her eyes.

She feels someone jump down and land behind her, "What took you so long?" she immediately turns around startled, her mouth slightly agape with surprise, "Did anyone see you come in?" you mock, making her features flatten.

"Very funny," she deadpans, "how long have you been here?"

"Since I left New Asgard."

Her brows furl, "You’ve been here for four weeks?" you simply shrug in response, looking anywhere but at her, "Does Val know you have her ship?"

"Obviously, I wasn't about to steal from The King."

"How come nobody knows where you are?"

"I’m a trained spy, remember? And a damn good one," She walks in, putting her fist and guard down as she relaxes into her surroundings. "Fury called you." It's not a question.   "He thought you were a threat."

"I had to unveil the ship, I was getting bored up here."

"How was I supposed to know you were hiding somewhere outside the Earth's atmosphere?"

You eye her daringly, "You don't recognize the coordinates?" she stares at you in confusion, "Look down, Captain."

She peeks out a window and realizes what you mean, "It’s our home," she barely whispers.

You nod, "When was the last time you went home?"

Your words strike a nerve within her, "Don’t try to guilt trip me, what I do is important," she says between gritted teeth.

You didn't even mean it like that, but her aggressiveness has always been contagious, "Shut the fuck up, Danvers!"

"Hey!" she warns, "I get that you're angry, I get that I hurt you, but you cannot speak to me like that." She takes an offensive stance.

You cross your arms and give her a challenging look, "Why not?"

"Because we have a relationship based on respect."

Her response makes you loudly scoff in disbelief, "Respect? Since when? Since you visit your convenience husband more than you visit me? Since you spend 99% of your time buried in your work somewhere in the middle of space? Since you don't even have the decency to tell me you're coming to Earth to see some coworker's family?"

"They are my friends!" she objects.

"And I am your wife," you retaliate.

Carol drops the power trip, "You are?" she hesitates.   You feel all your confidence disappear, "I hardly think what I did counts as a real divorce."

"But, you want one?" Her voice only grows smaller.

"I don't know, it's not like I wanted to leave you."

She can’t believe she used this reunion to start a fight with you again, "I’m sorry, I don't know what's been happening to me." She gently hugs herself.

"You bit off more than you could chew." You follow her example and compose yourself, your gaze fixated on a wall.

"I promise to be better, what if we don't have to sneak around anymore, what if we could just be together in public? Would that make a difference?"

You respond by giving her a silent look, pleading with her to not toy with your heart anymore.

She approaches you and tries to hold your hand, "Angel."

"What are you doing?" You immediately back away from her touch.

She stops her movements, "I thought that's where this was going."

"It certainly is not."

She hides her face in her palms in shame, "I’m sorry, I’m just gonna go, it's fine, we're fine—"

"We're not fine," you interrupt.

"Right, whatever, bye." She exits with no destination in mind and simply remains floating in space at the mercy of the stars.

Carol has never felt like such a failure before, not when she harshly yelled at Kamala prior to being properly introduced, nor when she couldn't reach Monica, resulting in her being stuck in another universe. Even when she fails, she always knows exactly what she needs to do to fix everything, except for this, except for you.

You decide to turn your brain off and get some sleep, you think you might have to return Valkyrie's ship after this fiasco, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

A while later, Carol’s comms ring, and she picks up out of habit, still zoned out.

"Carol—" a small, quivering voice calls out through the device, followed by heavy pants, it sounds completely terrified.

Carol's eyes shoot open, "Kamala?"

A loud knock on the door wakes you, "Please, open up!"

"Carol?" You murmur under your breath as you get up. Her knocks only get louder and more desperate as you make your way to let her in, "It's four in the morning," you croak, rubbing your eyes.

She quickly enters, "If you choose to live in space you don't get to work in a time zone." It is only once you close the door that you realize she is carrying an unconscious body.

"Tell me you sang her to sleep," you hope, already dreading the scene that’s about to unfold, Carol only stares at you impatiently.   "There's a medical room in the back." You guide her to the room, and she lays Kamala on the bed. You immediately take charge of the situation.

You were always the one patching Carol up after rough missions, and she felt some guilt every time she was unable to return the favor, "What the hell happened to her?" you ask.

"I don't know." Her tone is somewhat apologetic.

You get to work on the girl to the best of your ability. Her injuries, although nonlethal, are enough to give you goosebumps, they seem to have been caused by a weapon, but not any human weapon that you know of. You doubt Ms Marvel was just hanging out in the streets past midnight when an emergency alien attack took place, which leaves you with a single theory, this was a planned mission that went horribly wrong.

"I think she should wake up on her own, I just have to clean her up," you tell Carol, gesturing towards the numerous bruises and cuts on Kamala's body. She chooses to wait outside to not obstruct your work with her pacing.

"Why didn't you go to the Avengers?" you question Carol once you come out of the room, wiping some blood off your hands with a rag.

She halts her movement, but doesn’t make eye contact, "It seemed easier—faster to just keep going up," she couldn't think of anyone else who could help her in the moment, "her mother is going to kill me."

"No more dinner with the Khans for you," you fake a pout, when you see she's genuinely distressed, you clear your throat and straighten your tone, "is this your fault?"

She shakes her head, "It was already too late when I arrived."

"If they didn't call you, then it's not on you," you reassure her. It is only now that you actually take a good look at Carol, her eyes are red, her skin pale, and her back is hunching, "Have you slept? Or eaten? Or sat down in the past month?" There is genuine worry in your words.

She silently stares at you for a moment and mutters, "What does it matter."

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I’m invulnerable." She tries to stand up tall with the little energy she has.

"Which means you can't die, not that you can go on living like…that."

"I’m doing fine," she argues, but you know better than to believe her.

"You're on the verge of tears, this close to collapsing," you gesture with your fingers, "but you are much too stubborn to do anything about it." Your voice remains velvety soft, you can read her like an open book, and she doesn't like that.

"You were always so good at reminding me to take care of my human side."

"You're all human, down to the fuck ups," the small smile that formed on her face flattens, "sit down," Carol looks toward the medical room tentatively, "she's gonna take her time, sit down," you repeat gently.

She obliges, "Are we gonna pretend you didn't just tell me off earlier?"

"We don't have to, but you can't leave now, so there's no point in being hostile." She nods gratefully.

You offer her a cup of tea and a snack, and invite her to take a warm shower, "If you wanna go through the closet, Val has a good selection of sweaters."

You didn’t even realize you fell asleep again, until a beeping sound wakes you up. You open your eyes to see it's Carol's comms, which prompts you to search for her from your spot on the couch. As you focus further, you hear her voice coming from the med room talking with Kamala, and a subtle smile tugs at your lips.

You're about to ignore the sound and go back to sleep, when a thought occurs to you, nobody calls Captain Marvel just to chat, your sense of duty insists you pick up, "Hello?"

The Avengers director recognizes your voice immediately, "Where’s Danvers?"

"Fury?" You panic, he can't know Carol and you are together.

"Is she with you?" he presses, making your palms sweat.

"I, uh, um—"

"I know about you two, you can calm down."

His words make you freeze in place, "You do?"

"Yes, she's not your boss, it's fine." He glosses over it like it’s nothing as he doesn’t have time for this right now. You find such information difficult to process, but you try to leave the implications for later.

"Okay, why are you calling?"

"Do you know where Kamala is?"

You had momentarily forgotten about your impromptu visitor, "Yes."

"Where?" he demands.

"What’s it to you?" you sass him, deciding to be uncooperative given the circumstances that brought the girl to you in the first place.

"She works for me."

"That’s what I thought, but then, it makes no sense how you assigned her a middle of the night mission without any intention to send backup."

"She wasn't alone, she had Bishop!" he argues.

You feel your body’s temperature rise, "Oh, she had Bishop? Another rookie? And where is your archer now?"

Fury remains calm in the face of your anger, "Right here, too shaken up to actually tell me anything that happened."

"Good news for you, if Kamala's mom doesn't have your head on a stick by morning, Belova definitely will," you warn him, "better sleep with your eye open. Kamala is in good hands, I'll send her your way once I decide she's ready." You aggressively end the call.

Carol comes out of the medical room right as you're setting her comms down, "Who was that?" she asks.

"Fury, he wanted to know where Kamala is, but I’m not telling him." Your jaw is stiff with residual rage.

"Why?"

"He put her in danger, I don't trust him with her." You pull both of your legs up on the couch and cross them.

"But he’s your boss," Carol objects, making sure to maintain a gentle tone so as to not anger you further.

"Yeah, and apparently you aren’t, he knows about us." She meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod.

Your response comes out louder than you expected, "You knew?"

She breaks eye contact, "It’s recent, I asked him about you."

"So what? We never needed to keep it a secret?"

She kneels on the floor in front of you, "That’s what I've been trying to tell you, we don't need to hide anymore."

"You had many opportunities to hide with me, but you always chose to hide from me." Your voice cracks as you feel your skin cool down.

"You should have said no, you should have pushed back," you search for the meaning of her words in her eyes, "when I asked you to quit your job," she clarifies, "I had no right to do that."

You sigh deeply before responding, "The moment you brought it up I decided I would, because I worry the exact same way every time you go on a mission, I figured it would be better if only one of us had to go through that."

Carol’s eyes travel to the ground, "So, are you gonna get back now that we…?"

"I haven't really thought about it," you confess, "about not being with you anymore."

A few hours later, Kamala calls for Carol, and you go check on her. She looks at you as you enter the room with what you can only describe as disappointment.

"I forced Carol to take a nap, so I’m gonna be looking after you for now," you feel the need to explain, she gives you a light nod and a smile, "how are you feeling?"

"Like an alien used my body to mop the floor." Her smile doesn’t go away.

You chuckle at her words, walking fully into the room and closing the door behind you, "I know what that's like, you're doing great, though."

"I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I’m not," you shrug.

"Carol said you're really good at patching people up."

"With Captain Marvel as your partner, you kinda have to get good at it." You inspect Kamala's bandages, they're sloppy, barely hanging on.

"Did she do these?" you ask rhetorically,

"She means well."

"I really should have checked on you sooner, I'm sorry." You get to work changing them all out for fresh ones.

"Are you guys done for good?" she blurts out as you wrap up her arm, making you shoot her a stern look, "Sorry, it's the painkillers," she quickly apologizes.

"I really don't know." You don't know the answer and you don't know if you wanna talk to a kid about it. You continue to patch her up as an awkward silence takes over.

When you’re almost done, she speaks again, "Can I tell you something?"

Her timid tone makes you worry, "Sure."

"After my first unintentional mission with Carol, Fury asked her to take me in for a few months to train me," her eyes fixate on her lap, "I lived on her ship, and we went on lots of missions together. Once a month, she would make a point to bring me back to Earth, so I could be home and see my family, I thought maybe she became exhausted of having a teenager in her home all the time, so she would use that break to rest, but I think she actually used that time to spend with you."

You nod while listening to her, you knew about this already.

"Eventually, I joined the Young Avengers and moved into the compound, I would constantly ask Fury to let me visit Carol, and I guess he found it cute, so he would help me show up unannounced in her ship, I thought I was doing a good thing, I thought she must get lonely…"

You did not know about that, your mind starts racing.

"What I’m trying to say is, I think Carol stopped spending time with you for fear I might show up at an inconvenient time," your features change abruptly into something she can't quite recognize, she starts to ramble, unable to stop herself, "I’m really sorry, I didn't know, I was just trying to be a good friend. On mother's day, I had to practically beg her so she would accept my invitation, please don't be angry." Her eyes meet yours again and she looks so scared for her life.

You cover your mouth with both hands to avoid saying anything impulsive and take a few deep breaths as you collect your thoughts, your delay only making Kamala grow more nervous.

"Thank you for telling me," you hesitate, carefully measuring your every word, "you couldn't have known, of course I’m not mad at you," your heavy breathing and your nails digging into your palms exposing your real feelings, "I’m gonna bring you lunch."

She mouths, "Okay," trying to calm herself down, and you exit the scene as fast as your feet allow you. When you come back, she's dozed off again.

Carol comes out of the bedroom after her much needed nap, you’re sitting on the couch and don’t bother greeting her before demanding, "I spoke to Kamala, is it true?" Carol becomes instantly alert, "You stopped letting me come visit you for fear of her showing up?"

"Yes," she simply concedes.

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she hangs onto my every word, I felt like I had a responsibility towards her."

"And, when I confronted you?"

"She was right there, I couldn’t." To both of your surprise, this conversation plays out a lot more civilized than you expected, given the topic.

"What about earlier?"

Carol exhales heavily, "She's just a kid, she wanted to spend time with me, I don't think she should be blamed for that."

"Hold on," you stand up, the gears in your brain turning, she's confused but decides to let you go through your process, "Fury was the one helping Kamala in and out of your ship, right?" you continue.

"Uh, yeah."

"And he knew about us all along?" Carol nods, trying to catch up with your train of thought, "He also knew when I was with you because I wasn't at work."

She takes a few steps closer to you, "What’s your point?"

"There is no way Kamala and I would have run into each other unless he wanted us to, and we never did." The puzzle pieces finally fall into place.

Carol flares up, "That son of a bitch!"

"Calm down, Captain Marvel."

"He was messing with me, on purpose." Her voice goes up an octave.

You have inadvertently unleashed a monster with your plausible deductions, "You don't know that, I’m sure he has better things to do."

"Like sending his teenagers on a midnight run to get their asses kicked?"

"Okay, that wasn't his brightest moment, but still."

"Who’s side are you on?" Carol’s powers only become more aggressive.

"I’m on the side of 'this is Valkyrie's ship,' and if you throw a fire tantrum I’m gonna be the one paying for it." You set your foot down on the very real implications of her behavior.

In an instant, you both snap your neck in the direction of Carol’s comms that still rest on the couch, you reach for the device, and she slaps your wrist out of the way, you grab her arm with your other hand, and she lights it up so you immediately let go, "That's cheating!" you yell, making her laugh. Taking advantage of her distraction, you kick her arm sending the device flying into the air and catching it behind you, stuffing it in your back pocket.   Carol follows your movement with her eyes and stares at your ass for a bit afterwards. A month ago she would have reached for the device without a second thought, but today, she wouldn't dare, still, that doesn't stop her from being a tease and biting her lip at the sight.

"Perv," you snark, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

She cocks a grin, "When you have something for so long and then lose it all of a sudden, you're bound to miss it, I’m all human, after all," she uses your own words to taunt you, "come one, give me a little spin."

You give her a death stare instead, "Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"

"Sorry." She feigns remorse, her grin still plastered on.

You turn around and walk to the kitchen with a huff, knowing you’re giving her what she wants. In times like these, it's nice to be appreciated. Her smirk turns into genuine delight, underneath her depraved ruse, she's happy to know you're still willing to play along with her.

You start slicing some veggies, much to her confusion, "I thought Kamala already ate?"

"It's for us, you dumbass."

"Oh," she's pleased, 'us,' sounds so sweet coming from your lips, "let me help you," she offers, and it’s now your turn to smile as you observe her every move.

You fall into a good rhythm cooking together until the ship’s door opens, triggering you both into combat mode, Carol's fists light up, and you grab the biggest knife you can find in a vice grip.

King Valkyrie waltzes into her ship, making you exhale in relief and put your weapon down.

"Val?" Carol calls to get her attention, Valkyrie turns in your direction, and you can immediately tell she’s pissed.

"I need my ship back," she orders.

"You promised you weren't gonna track me," you protest in return.

"And I didn't for a whole month," Val interjects, "that’s how good a friend I am, but your boss is on my ass about getting you back home, something about a double assassination attempt," she explains as she closes the door.

"A what?" Carol utters.

"Don’t worry about it," you mumble, knowing what Val is referring to.

"And I could really live with not having to deal with your shit for once," The King continues with a weak snark.

Carol can’t help but tease her, "Since when do you let Fury push you around?"

"You see my face?" Val asks rhetorically, "Do I look amused?" She is not in the mood to be messed with.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching their exchange, "Do you wanna—?" you gesture for Carol to continue working in the kitchen and guide Val to walk further into the vessel, "Double assassination? That's a bit much."

"He may have been exaggerating," Val shrugs.   "If it were up to me, we would be out of here in no time, but we have an extra passenger." You open the door to the medical room to reveal a sleeping Kamala.

"Shit! What did you do to her?" Valkyrie exclaims.

"I saved her life," you hush with pride.

Val lowers her voice to match yours, "She looks awful."

"You should have seen her when she arrived."

"Poor thing," Valkyrie slowly closes the door so her shock doesn't wake Kamala up, "so, are you two working together for little Marv's sake?"

"Yeah, Carol seems convinced that everything is Fury's fault."

"This?" Val points to Kamala’s door alarmed.

"Well, yes, but also with us," you hesitate.

"How so?"

_____

Carol, Valkyrie, and you are sitting at the table eating together, Val agreed to have a taste after you reassured her you did most of the cooking.

"Explain it to me again," The King asks, still unable to grasp Carol’s reasoning.

"Fury has been letting Kamala into my ship at random times so I grow paranoid of sneaking around with my wife."

"That makes no sense, did you talk to him about it?" Valkyrie responds, prompting Carol to shoot you an angry look.

"I took her comms," you tell Valkyrie, "she’s so livid, there is no way for that conversation to end well, regardless of his answer." Val hadn't noticed Carol's temper, she's good at concealing it, but she can't keep anything hidden from you, you know her much too well.

Your meal is interrupted by a beeping sound coming from Valkyrie’s pocket, "Speak of the devil." She silently excuses herself as she gets up to answer, walking towards the bedroom for some privacy, "What do you want, Nicholas?" despite your efforts, you can only hear half of the conversation, "Yes I am here."

Carol and you follow Val with your eyes until she's out of sight and you can no longer hear her voice.

"We can't leave until Kamala gets better," Carol almost commands you.

"I know that."

"We’re gonna need to stall." Her tone turns suggestive.

A devilish smirk forms on your face, "You got it, Captain." A rush of excitement takes over your body, it almost feels like old times, plotting and sneaking around.

With a loud swing of the door, Val comes back out and announces, "Alright, that's settled, I’m bringing you all home and then taking my ship with me."

Carol leans in to whisper in your ear without taking her eyes off Valkyrie, "Distract her, I have an idea."

You stand and get really close to Valkyrie to take her undivided attention, "But, what about Kamala?" As soon as you speak, Carol stealthily makes her way to the ship's engine.

"I am awfully sorry, but I really don't have time for this, her parents will have to forgive me," Val responds with no real remorse.

"What would Thor think about your decision?" You try to provoke her.

Val scoffs, "Do not bring the beefcake into this."

"So, you're really just gonna let Fury tell you what to do?"

"Whatever allows me to be back home and out of this mess the fastest."

"You’re growing soft, King," you mock.

"You’ll get old one day, too."

"I bet, how old are you this year? Five thousand and three?" Valkyrie begins to make her way to the control panel when Carol comes back up, panting.

"Oh, hey, you're still here?" Carol loudly asks, Val eyes her with suspicion as she keeps walking, "I was just making sure that your ship was all set to return home, turns out we're really low on gas, won't even make it halfway." She fights to catch her breath.

Valkyrie stops with a huff and turns to stare at you both, she's not stupid, "Look at you two conspiring assholes, almost made me forget you're in the middle of filing for divorce." Carol and you look at each other and smile.

"I’m sorry, Val, but we can't go back yet," you state in the firmest tone you can manage.

Valkyrie crosses her arms and sucks on her teeth as she realizes you’ve outplayed her, "Fine, do whatever you want, but I’m not dealing with this anymore," she takes her comms and gives them to you to add to your now growing collection of other people's devices, "I need a drink and a long bubble bath, do not even think about disturbing me." She takes a brand new bottle of Scotch from the kitchen and enters the bathroom.

Carol hadn't felt this good in a long time, the rush of pulling a half thought out plan followed by the satisfaction of it working out just right, with the added bonus that she got to do it by your side, "Good job," she congratulates you.

"Likewise." You have that smile on your face, the one that made Carol fall for you all those years ago, the one she has missed so dearly, not just in the past month, but long before that.

You go back to finishing your lunch in a somewhat comfortable silence. After a moment, Carol speaks, "It wasn't all about Kamala visiting at random," you look at her with a frown, "every time I saw you, I couldn't shake the fear that it might be the last."

"And not seeing me at all was a better choice?" you retort.

"Everyone else could come and go, but I could never deal with losing you, I don't know what I was thinking, I made you a vow and I couldn't keep it, I feel like such a failure." There is something in her eyes that you can’t fully identify, woe, perhaps.

"Why were you so adamant about blaming Fury for this?" You find some respite in knowing that, deep down, she didn’t actually believe it to be true.

"It was easier that way, I didn't have to admit that I’m scared that way," you give her a flat hum in response, "I’m really sorry, I don't expect you to forgive me, but please know that I am very, truly sorry, it's all my fault and I’m owning up to it, as soon as Kamala is better we can go home, and you don't have to see me ever again, if that's what you want."

It would break her heart if you said you didn’t want to see her anymore, fortunately, or not, you refrain from responding and finish the rest of your meal quietly contemplating her every word.

There is so much you wanna say, so many questions you want to ask her, but, would it even change anything?

As much as you want to lift her chin up and reassure her that you can work things out and everything is going to be okay, as much as wish, and hope, this isn’t something you can do on your own, you learned that the hard way, and it hit you like an alien mopping the floor with your body.

Despite your aching chest, you can’t just give her what she wants, it would come at too high a price from you, and you know you deserve better than that.

A few days later, you check on Kamala and conclude that she is stable enough to sustain the trip back. You come out of the room to an awaiting Carol, "I think she's ready to go home," she nods in response, "what did you do with the fuel? Because we're gonna need it about now." With Valkyrie having politely locked herself up in the bedroom since the night she arrived, it’s been on you to take charge once again.

Carol begins to think of all her options, "I’ll figure something out, don't worry about it."

"I worry about a lot of things when it comes to you." You tentatively walk closer to her on the couch.

She looks up at you with curiosity, "Like what?"

"Like if you're eating the right amount, or working too hard, or whether I'll ever be able to trust you again," you mumble the last part.

"I said I’m sorry, what more can I do?" she sighs.

"'Sorry' is not enough, Carol," you no longer have the energy to yell at each other, "what if Dar-Benn had said sorry, would that have made it all okay?"

Her features turn stern as she objects, "She tried to destroy every place I call home."

You look at her with sadness in your eyes, "Sometimes, I feel like that's exactly what you're doing to me." You slump on the other end of the couch and rub your temples.

"What if I took some time off?" she blurts out, making you snap your neck in her direction and you heartbeat race.

"What about your job?"

"I could ask Monica and Kamala to take over for a bit," she suggests nonchalantly.

"That doesn't sound right."

"I can talk to Val."

"She’s a King, she won't just take over because you asked." She seems too comfortable delegating the duties of the strongest Avenger.

"What about The Guardians?"

"The Guardians?" you repeat, "yeah, right."

She runs out of people she’s willing to sacrifice for you, so she gets a better idea, "Then, move into my ship with me!" Your brain stops working and you're unable to respond for an instant, "I don't hear a 'no,'" she insists.

"I didn't say 'yes'"

"What would it take?" you remain silent with a piercing gaze, "I’ll do anything, please." She turns her whole body to face you.

You feel very privileged to be seeing Captain Marvel begging, it makes you feel special knowing she's doing it just for you, so you give her a chance, "Soundproof your room."

"Done," she responds immediately.

"I wanna meet Yan," you continue.

Carol is taken aback with surprise, "Really?"

"He’s the most beautiful man in the universe."

That’s all it takes to convince her, "Okay, yeah, sure."

You worry your lip between your teeth and take much longer to speak this time, "I still want a divorce," you whisper, almost able to hear her heart breaking all over again, she nods sadly and her eyes travel to the ground.

Without any fuel left, Carol’s solution to get you back on Earth is to push the vessel from the outside herself.

You arrive safely to the Avengers compound and help Kamala into the med bay to let an actual doctor treat her for the rest of her recovery. Once you make sure Kamala is taken care of, and Carol has refueled Valkyrie’s ship, you get back in to make your way to New Asgard. All too quick for Fury to intercept.

As soon as you arrive to the Kingdom, Valkyrie exits her ship and all but kicks you out along with her, "I would love to say it was a pleasure, but it really wasn’t," she deadpans, retrieving her comms from you, much too exhausted to make her annoyance noticeable.

Carol and you both know she’s exaggerating, but you also know that you exhausted her trust, you’d better not need anything from her for the next three to five years.

It is only now that Carol realizes a flaw in your trajectory, as you take in her frown, you begin to work things out yourself,  "We’re stuck here," you say her thoughts out loud.

She hesitates slightly before responding, "There is one option…" It’s almost like a pre apology.

"Seriously?" You squint your eyes in dread, succumbing to your faith.

Carol picks you up bridal style and flies off. It only takes a few minutes for you to land on the front lawn of your shared home. She gently puts you down on the ground, and you step away from her, taking a moment to recompose yourself from the intimacy of being carried by your ex.

"Thanks," you say awkwardly, stretching your neck.

She gives you a tight lipped smile, "No problem," you both stand there in silence, unsure of how to act, "so, is this goodbye then?" she crosses her arms, bracing herself for your departure.

"No, I’m moving in with you," you state matter of factly, the confusion in her face is evident.

"What about the divorce?"

"Oh, yeah, we gotta do that." You had forgotten for a second, flying at Captain Marvel speeds always renders your mind hazy.

She retreats further into herself, lowering her gaze, "We can go first thing tomorrow."

You cradle her face with both hands, gently caressing her cheeks until her eyes meet yours, "I am giving you another chance to offer me that ring in the future, to help me trust you again."

Her eyes glimmer like the brightest stars, she turns her face to kiss one of your palms and leans into your touch, "I won't let you down this time, I promise."

@wolf79

[alluralater]

just finished moving around/reorganizing my entire bedroom. i have cried three times today but now i’m laying in bed, my room smells of roses, and i’m eating french bread. this was not the bipolar hot girl mania i was promised but damn if i don’t do it well

[lesbianlenas]

me last night: wow i am so over my friend of many yrs abandoning me it’s fine now i dont even care what progress i have made from last time when it took me 11 yrs to get over it! :)

me today:

[i-could-be-so-much-more]

It frustrates me to no end that everyone I talk to someone new my brain catastrophises to the point where even though I know logically it’s fine, and normal, and fun, I end up making it a bigger deal in my head that I know it is…I think myself into spirals that the logical part of my brain knows are ridiculous and dramatic and improbable, which stress me out more than is entirely necessary…it’s so tiring to exist and participate in the social world sometimes

[coyotebrained]

You have to think things will get better, otherwise what is the point!!! You have to hold out hope that things will get better and then maybe one day things will feel safe and be cool and everything will be fine (at least as fine as it can be)

[d3l3t3d-deactivated]

meow

[hagravenholm]

.

[poppyseed799]

I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

[roys-our-boy]

These have me sobbing. Like why is he so cute

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.